


coalescence

by falchion



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Rimming, Sex Toys, post episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falchion/pseuds/falchion
Summary: In that moment, Yuuri feels whole once more.-AKA Extremely prose-y and pretentious sappy Victuri pwp.





	

**Author's Note:**

> why the fuck is the first thing i write for this hell-series porn??? but then again when do i ever write anything else goddamn

Yuuri feels it as soon as he wakes up in the morning.

The itch under his skin that he can't seem to scratch, the heat blooming across his skin and travelling throughout him, and sensitivity that has his nerves on fire feeling every brush of his clothing against his skin...

He turns to his side, the scent of Victor's soap and musk filling him, and he swallows a groan that threatens to escape him. God, how he'd love to crawl under the sheets right now and suck Victor off, hearing his subconscious whines as he slowly awoke, Yuuri's mouth around his cock being the first thing he sees in the morning... Yuuri licks his lips and his fingers reach to pull the cover back and -

His eyes catch on the alarm clock on the bedside table, and he lets out a yell of alarm.

"Yuuri?" Victor asks, rousing himself suddenly. His silver hair is a mess, and he runs a shaky, sleep-ridden hand through it in an attempt to quell its tangles. "What's wrong?"

"We're late," Yuuri says, quickly jumping out of bed, his horniness immediately forgotten in lieu of their situation. "It's already ten-thirty, and we said we'd meet Yurio at the rink at eleven!"

Victor blinks, and lets out a huge yawn. "So we're a little late, it won't kill him," he murmurs, but he steps out from under the covers regardless.

"Yeah, but he might kill us," Yuuri shoots back, "and then you'll never get to see me skate again." And with that, Yuuri shuts the door to the room and heads for the bathroom without another word.

He takes a cold shower, just to be safe.

 

* * *

 

"You're late, dumbass!" Yuri yells as soon as the two of them enter through the doors of the skating rink, only Yuuri slightly out of breath from running while Victor had lagged behind. Yuuri avoids his gaze, giving a nervous scratch to the back of his neck as he looks to the side. Beside him, Victor laughs.

"Now now, Yurio, haven't you ever heard that patience is a virtue?" he asks, his voice as nonchalant as ever.

Yuri scowls. "The only virtuous thing right now is my fist as it meets your face," he spits.

"That sounds terrible!" Victor replies, his mouth falling into an 'o' shape. Yuuri has to hide his smile into his jacket as he slides it off. He can hear Yuri blathering more insults towards Victor, this time in Russian for the added expletive effect. Victor, however, doesn't take it personally, sending empty promises towards Yuri in an effort to get him to calm down.

A glance at Yuri's skates and the sweat on his skin tell Yuuri that the boy had already been skating for quite some time while waiting for them, and he laments that he should be working harder too - the days to the Grand Prix Final aren't getting any longer, after all. Unclipping his blades' covers, he steps out onto the ice, gliding against the surface and letting the coolness of the ice calm his skin.

The morning's commotion and shower had shifted his priorities away from his morning horniness, but the run had gotten him a little hot, and he could feel it creeping up through him once more. However, the temperature in the rink is naturally much colder than it is outside, and for that Yuuri is relieved - he can feel his arousal beginning to subside, especially in the wake of his concentration towards his jumps - and within minutes his thoughts of sucking Victor's cock were naught but shy delusions hidden in the back of his mind.

That is, until Victor opens his mouth to speak.

"Fantastic, Yuuri," Victor calls across the ice, "you're doing a wonderful job. Just like that!" he'd say, and Yuuri would feel his body shiver in anticipation.

The way his voice drawls out over his name reminds him of nights back home curled on the couch with Makkachin, the television blaring softly in the background as Yuuri reads a book, Victor's arms snug around his chest. The way he laughs and smiles whenever Yuuri does well makes warmth bloom in his chest, reminding him of the happiness that they share together and the looks that Victor shows only to him.

And then the way Victor praises him as he lands his jumps sends a different kind of feeling through Yuuri; a different kind of warmth that stirs him up from somewhere deeper. It's tumultuous and dizzying, sending shivers through his body that remind him of nights wrapped up in Victor's sheets, in his arms and with those same encouragements being whispered into his ear and neck -

Yuuri slips, sliding against the ice with a gasp.

"Yuuri, that jump was too stiff," Victor says from the side, "you can't land yourself if you're rigid like that." With a huff, Yuuri nods and climbs up from the ice, determined to try again.

The minutes turn to hours, and Yuuri slumps exhausted against the side of the sink, his chest heaving. He's lost count of how many times he's run his routine, and long forgotten how many times he's missed a jump. He can feel Victor's eyes on him, narrowed, suspicious and somewhat worried. The heat under his skin hasn't subsided, and in fact, Yuuri could feel it only getting worse as his frustration mounted with every failed attempt.

Victor claps his hands, beckoning for Yuuri to return to the side of the rink for a chat. With a small sigh, Yuuri collects himself from his thoughts and skates over to where Victor is, a frown etched on his face.

"Yuuri," he says, his voice quiet so that only the two of them could hear the conversation, "what's the matter? You seem like you have something on your mind."

Yuuri glances to the side, where Yuri is busy practicing his jumps. Yuri never stuffs up his skating. But then again, Yuuri could argue that he was at somewhat of a disadvantage, with Victor's eyes undressing him as he skated, probably. Still, he feels embarrassed with the knowledge that he looked all sorts of lame in comparison to the kid eight years his junior. "It's nothing," Yuuri says finally, shaking his head. He turns to skate away and resume practice when he feels Victor's hand grab at his forearm, keeping him in place.

"Yuuri," Victor says again, this time with more force. It's clear that he's not looking for a sweet conversation - he's serious this time. "Whatever is wrong, it's messing with you routine. Don't think I can't see that your movements are stilted - you don't look graceful at all."

Ah, there it was - the constructive bluntness. Yuuri swallows past the initial sting of his words and takes it for what he intends it to be - concern. "It's nothing serious, I promise," he says, this time with a bit more insistence. Because it's not like he's not telling Victor because he doesn't want to... but more because it's embarrassing and totally not appropriate for where they are.

"Then why won't you look at me, Yuuri?" Victor asks. His voice is soft now, tender. He's not asking Yuuri as his coach - he's asking as his lover. "No matter what it is, it's okay. You know that, right? Nothing you say or do could ever make me stop believing in you."

And then, Yuuri laughs.

"Yuuri?" Victor asks, his head tilting in confusion.

Yuuri stifles himself to a low chuckle, in case Yuri became curious of what they were discussing, and he coughs into his hand. "No, I'm just - It's fine. Really, honestly, one hundred percent fine. And hearing you become so concerned - it makes me happy. More happy than you can imagine," Yuuri says. "It's just... your reaction. You're going to laugh when you find out what's on my mind," he says.

"I'd never laugh at you, Yuuri," Victor says, although his voice is wary. He doesn't understand the situation at all.

Yuuri smiles, then grabs Victor by the front of his jacket. It pools in his fist as he pulls the taller man before him, stopping when his ear is just shy of his lips.

"I've been thinking since I woke up about how much I'd love to get down on my knees and suck your cock," he says slowly, keeping his eyes on Victor's face as to watch his expression. He doesn't miss the way Victor's eyes immediately go wide and the loosening of his jaw, and Yuuri has to bite back a smile lest he doesn't finish his piece.

"I got so hot thinking about it that I had to take a cold shower this morning. Even the ice of this rink can't keep me from getting worked up every time you call out my name and tell me what a great job I'm doing," he says. He can feel it in his skin again, the heat from his words curling up and threatening to spill; if he doesn't control himself, he might end up giving into his desire now and the game will be over. But he continues, still.

"And when we get back home, you're going to lay down on your bed for me and fuck me until I say you can stop. You're going to beg for me to let you have a break, but you won't be moving until I'm satisfied, and all over again."

Yuuri pulls back, the glide of his skates setting him a metre apart from his lover, and smiles. Victor stares at him, his mouth hanging open and cheeks tinged pink. "I'm going to practice my routine again. Can you put on the music for me?" Yuuri asks. His voice is back to how it is usually, as if he hadn't been spouting off vulgarities just seconds before. It's like he'd switched between two entirely different personalities - and honestly, Victor isn't sure which one he likes more.

It takes him another minute to remember which button to press to turn the speakers on.

 

* * *

 

The walk home is agony, and it almost makes Victor wish that he lived further from the rink so that he would have an excuse to drive instead of walk. It really is only fifteen minutes, but to a Victor whose mind has been churning Yuuri's words over like a mantra for the better part of four hours now, the fifteen minutes feel like an eternity.

And he can see that Yuuri feels the same way, too.

Their hands brush often as they walk, their bodies closer than usual - closer than what is comfortable to walk, and each brush, despite the cold Russian winter and the layers of their gloves, sends heat blooming through to his core in a way that makes his breath hitch.

Yuuri's shoulders, too, remain at close distance, and when they pause to wait for the pedestrian crossings, he doesn't miss the opportunity to bury his face into Victor's jacket. The gesture does nothing for Victor but frustrate him further, and it takes only moments for his patience to snap entirely.

"You're driving me crazy," Victor mutters, before grabbing Yuuri's hand. He takes off their gloves, wrapping their fingers together and sliding them into the pocket of Victor's coat. "Warm enough?" he asks.

Yuuri flushes red, and nods. "Let's go home," he says, and Victor shuts his eyes momentarily, before continuing the trek back to his apartment.

His hands get to the hemline of Yuuri's shirt the moment the elevator's doors slide shut, the smaller boy leaning against the metal railing with a shudder when he feels Victor's hands, still frosty from the cold, trail their way up his stomach. "A-ah," he gasps, a blush riding high on his cheeks, "come on, you couldn't have waited until we got - got back?" he manages to ask.

Victor pauses from where he is sucking at Yuuri's neck, drawing back and meeting his gaze. Victor's eyes are like the sea during a summer storm, dark and brewing with a danger that it both terrifying yet tantalizing, tempting Yuuri with the thrill of adventure and the vast unknown. It's the kind of temptation that he would let swallow him whole, willfully and without hesitation.

"I've been waiting for hours, Yuuri," Victor says. His voice is straining, like he can't bear to be away from Yuuri's skin for even mere seconds - a thought that makes Yuuri's heart swell in his chest, and he grins.

"I've been waiting longer," he says, licking his lips. Victor suppresses a sigh that threatens to spill from him, clenching his eyes shut. It's only a few more seconds, he can wait, he can wait, he can wait...

The elevator's doors open, and the two of them stumble across the hall towards the far end, the final room that belongs to the two of them. Yuuri digs for the key in Victor's pocket as the older man's hands travel over his skin, and when the door swings open, they tumble unceremoniously against the nearest wall.

"Not here," Yuuri manages to say through giggles as Victor's mouth runs along the ridge of his neckline, his hair tickling the sensitive flesh that was beginning to flush with red marks. "The bedroom!"

"Cruel," Victor murmurs, pulling back and immediately grabbing Yuuri by his wrists towards the room, their shoes and socks discarded on the wooden panelling on the way. Yuuri doesn't recall removing his coat either, but by the time his back lands against the soft blankets of Victor's bed, he's stripped down to his shirt - and it's only a matter of seconds before Victor slides that up over his head, too.

"Why is it that I'm always the one naked?" Yuuri asks, a slight bout of irritation to his tone.

"I don't see you making an effort to change that," Victor challenges, and Yuuri smiles. In a second, their positions are reversed - Yuuri had grabbed Victor by the shoulders and pulled him onto the bed, before rolling him over so he now straddled the taller man.

"Nice view," Victor breathes, and Yuuri doesn't hesitate to pull Victor's shirt off with one fluid movement. His eyes catch on a red mark by the juncture of his collarbone, and he shivers with the memory that comes to mind. "Leave another," Victor says, and Yuuri obliges happily.

Yuuri's hands wander lower as he sucks against the pale skin of Victor's neck, enjoying the way his lover seemed to melt into his touch. His deft fingers undo the buttons of his pants, and slide them just low enough to expose the curve of his ass.

God, Yuuri loves this. He loves being the only one to see Victor like this, with his face red and body shivering with anticipation. And he especially loves the way that Victor's facial expression always goes wide with alarm when he catches the boy reaching out to suck his cock.

"Oh god," Victor says immediately, his head leaning backwards. No man could safely look down at the man he loves sucking him off with such earnest fervour without cumming directly on the spot - especially not with the way Yuuri sucked dick.

Yuuri loves Victor's cock - perhaps even more than the man himself. He doesn't just suck it, as much as he flat out worships it. Both hands resting on the base of his cock, Yuuri guides it into his mouth open and waiting, his tongue flat and teeth neatly pulled back behind moistened lips, as if he'd been trained for this all his life.

The heat makes Victor lose his head, and Yuuri doesn't stop there. He's messy and unashamed, spit pooling from his chin as he forces more of Victor's length into his mouth, until he's crammed full and struggling to breathe. This is what Yuuri loves the most, being stuffed with Victor's cock and the heady taste of him in his mouth, and despite it all, he still manages to smile around his girth, as if this situation is the most pleasing thing he can imagine.

His glasses fog up from the heat between them, too, sliding up his face and sitting askew across his forehead. Yuuri doesn't care - he can't bring himself to care, not when Victor's cock is making its way deeper into him, and not when he wants more.

Victor looks away immediately, because he knows he will not last if he watches for even a second longer.

"Yuuri," he says softly, because that's all he can manage, "you need to stop." Yuuri does not stop, swallowing around his length. Victor groans. "Stop," he says with more force this time, because if Yuuri does not stop at that second, Victor will definitely -

Yuuri pulls up with a wet sound, saliva dripping from his chin and his hair sticking to his forehead in clumps. His face is red from exertion, and god, does he look entirely fuckable.

"Turn around for me," Victor says weakly. Yuuri smiles - but it is Victor who has the last laugh, for Yuuri doesn't know what he's gotten himself into just yet.

Victor spread's Yuuri's ass, eyeing his puckered flesh with a heat that sends chills throughout his body. God, he loves this hole, he can't wait to fuck it. With a smile he pulls his tongue across the sensitive flesh of Yuuri's perenium, before sliding into that perfect little hole. Yuuri gasps above, but Victor pays him no attention. He's not sure how long he spends teasing Yuuri like that, fucking his tongue in and out of his flesh, hot and wet but not enough, but he's sure that he can feel Yuuri's legs begin to tremble above him.

There is a bottle of lube on the desk just next to the bed - outstretching his arm, Victor grabs it and drizzles it generously over his hands and letting it drip onto Yuuri's ass, who shivers at the touch of the cool liquid. Victor wastes no time in sliding his fingers into Yuuri - he's quite close to his limit, too.

He's not taking his time, quickly adding a second finger and stretching Yuuri out, loving the sounds he makes as he goes. Victor has done this so many times that he knows Yuuri quite literally from the inside out - he knows exactly where to press to cause the younger man to keen out in pleasure, his body rutting back against his fingers on its own.

He loves seeing Yuuri like this, losing himself, fucking himself back shamelessly in the search for more pleasure, but what Victor loves even more is the expression on Yuuri's face, which Victor knows is just screaming 'this is not enough'.

"What's wrong?" Victor asks, a sly smile creeping on his face. "Is this not enough for you?"

Yuuri shakes his head, his eyes squeezed shut. "Please, Victor," Yuuri says.

"Please what?" he asks.

Yuuri's patience snaps.

"Fuck me, Victor," Yuuri says. "Fill me right up - I want you to fuck me until I can't even hold myself up any longer, fuck me until I can't breathe. I want you to fuck me until I beg you to stop, and even more - " Yuuri pauses, spreading himself open so that his body is in perfect display. "Wreck me."

Victor can't refuse a request like that - without a second wasted he pulls his fingers from Yuuri's hole, and slides himself in. Later, he will chastise himself for not using a condom, but they were monogamous, so it was more out of precaution than anything else.

Later, however, is not now, and the feeling of Yuuri so hot and pushing against him is at the forefront of his head.

Yuuri cries out as Victor enters him deep, the full heat of his cock stretching him out entirely and filling him whole. "God yes," Yuuri gasps, his thighs shaking. "Yes, just like that."

Victor doesn't waste any more time; his hands snake towards Yuuri's front, to his dick which had been left untouched for far too long, and begins to stroke him off.

The effect is instantaneous, Yuuri's body buckling under the immense pleasure and stimulation he's receiving from both ends, and Victor's free hand comes under his torso to help keep him upright. Victor loves it when Yuuri becomes like this, when he's being fucked out of his mind and can't even hold himself anymore.

Yuuri cums suddenly, his voice crying out and body trembling under Victor's hold. He's half-way through regaining his composure when Victor begins fucking him once more, and his body jerks to the side as overstimulation hits him hard. "Ah - Victor, wait," he says, his voice a rasp, but Victor does not stop.

"Wreck you," Victor murmurs into Yuuri's ear, "that was what you asked. Be quiet and let me give it to you," he says, and Yuuri's eyes flutter shut, his body giving into the overwhelming pleasure without complaint.

His stamina had always been quite alarming to Victor, and his refractory period even moreso - by the time Victor cums, his forehead buried deep in the crook of Yuuri's shoulder and groaning, Yuuri's cock is already hard once more. Victor slumps backwards, exhausted and in need of a break. His eyes, however, close for about three seconds before he feels the tell-tale weight of Yuuri pressing himself back into Victor's lap.

"More," he says, his hands clambering up to meet Victor's shoulders. Victor leans into his touch, pulling Yuuri into a kiss, and Yuuri brings his hands lower to palm at Victor's crotch. "Mm," Yuuri murmurs, sliding his hands against Victor's cock, "why aren't you hard?" he asks.

Victor gasps, his cock still too sensitive to touch. "Yuuri," he says, voice straining. "I-I only just came. I'm not a teenager, you can't just expect it to - ah," his sentence cuts off as Yuuri slides his cock into his mouth, sucking against it softly.

"Admitting that you're getting old?" Yuuri asks.

"Older," Victor corrects, "not old yet, but older," he says.

"You said you'd wreck me," Yuuri says, his eyes hazing towards Victor. The older man swallows, and watches as Yuuri lowers himself once more to Victor's cock, pulling it back into his mouth.

"Ah, Yuuri love... just wait a bit. You're not going to get anywhere like that," Victor pleads.

With a wet noise, Yuuri pulls off his cock, a long string of saliva pulling behind him. "Fine," Yuuri huffs, an annoyed look to his face. "If you're not going to do it for me, then I'll just do it myself," he says.

Without wasting a second, Yuuri sits upwards and clambers off the bed, and out of the room. Victor sits on the bed patiently, waiting for Yuuri to return, and watches as he does moments later with a... is that a dildo in his hands?

"Yuuri," Victor breathes, as Yuuri makes his way back onto the bed.

"I brought it with me from Japan," he explains, taking a condom and sliding it over the tip of the dildo. He then busies himself further, taking the bottle of lube and pouring a generous amount over the tip of the silicone cock, which was longer and thicker than Victor's own. "I thought I'd have the chance to use it sometime."

His ass was still slick and open from Victor's cock; it takes him just seconds to spread himself open and push the cock against his entrance, inviting it in.

"You know," Yuuri says through heated breaths, "I used to use this cock when I was younger... I'd..." he pauses to let out a deep groan as it slides deeper into him, his body clenching deep around it. "I'd pretend it was you, fucking me hard from behind."

Victor's eyes slide closed; he can feel himself getting turned on embarrassingly quick. Why was it that everything Yuuri said and did was just so unbelievably... erotic?

Yuuri stops speaking for a moment, his voice coming out in sharp pants as he works himself down on the thick cock, and eventually he's settled it completely inside. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are slightly glassy as he stares up at Victor squirming above him.

"I had all these little fantasies set out, you know. You.... You taking me in the bathroom after the Grand Prix Final," he says, his hand moving to stroke at his cock. "One where I came first, and tied your wrists with my gold medal."

Victor can't take his eyes from Yuuri - not that he would have, if he had the choice, anyway. Seeing him sprawled out in front of him, his back arched beautifully and an expression of pleasure mapped across his features has him holding a breath he didn't even know he had.

"Did you like that?" Victor breathes.

Yuuri nods, shuddering around that cock that's filling him up from behind. "God, yes," he gasps. "You loved it too. Loved being under me, obeying my every command... unable to do a thing as I did what I pleased with you. You loved every second of it, begging me not to stop," he lets out a choked gasp, having to compose himself once more lest he lose himself completely. "I rode you like that... in complete... Ah, complete control," he says.

"My Yuuri's a little control freak, now, isn't he?" Victor purrs. Yuuri's eyes are clenched shut in pleasure; he hasn't noticed that Victor's cock is hardening once more. Victor wants to distract him and keep him from realising it for longer; he knows that the moment he can, he'd ditch the dildo for the real thing. And as charming as that sounds to Victor, having Yuuri crave for his cock like a dying man to water, he wants to keep watching this little display for longer.

"Only because you loved it," Yuuri says with a lopsided grin, his words slurring from pleasure. His right hand is working that cock deep inside of him, thrusting it in and out of his hole and just where he likes it. His left is circled tight around his cock, jerking himself off at a pace that is causing heat to bloom throughout his body at speed. "Loved the way I took you in, your thick cock reaching deep inside," he gasps. "All of it at once, meeting you thrust for thrust - oh god, Victor, please," Yuuri sobs, his body slumping against the bed, "please."

"Why, is that cock not enough for you?" Victor asks.

Yuuri shakes his head, his vision a blur. "It's not. It's not enough. I need yours - your cock. I want it so bad, Victor, please," he begs. He hears his voice cracking - perhaps it did already. He doesn't know. There's only one thing he knows.

"Then come here and prove it," Victor says. Yuuri's eyes snap open, pulling the silicone cock from himself and clambering into Victor's lap, his hard cock waiting for him, and he feels relief wash over him immediately.

"Oh god, yes," Yuuri sobs as he sinks down onto it, "yes." This is what he needed - not some cheap imitation, no matter how expensive. There was nothing in the world that could substitute for Victor Nikiforov's cock, and Yuuri knew that for certain.

In that moment, Yuuri feels whole once more.

Victor's beyond playing along with Yuuri's games, too; he can't hold himself back anymore, not even if he tried. Somewhere in the back of his mind he whispers an apology for the way his fingers are digging into the soft flesh around Yuuri's hips, crescents forming and marring the flesh that lay there, but at the same time he knows that Yuuri loves it. He knows that Yuuri will stare at them in the mirror in the morning, tracing his fingers over each red mark with a shiver and smile - smile because they are proof that he is Victor's. Or, more accurately, that Victor is his, and that he is capable of driving the older man into such a predatory rage, leaving behind his humanity in an effort to mark him, like he is some kind of property, the most primal of instincts.

His mind is numb, and he cannot think. He can only thrust his hips like a madman, or a robot with no other function than to fuck. Hearing Yuuri cry out like this, his cries broken sobs as his arms scramble for purchase across Victor's back, only fuel him on more. To hear him sound like that, so ragged, so desperate, yet still so close to him that he'll give him everything - in Victor's head there is nothing but Yuuri, and he knows, that to Yuuri, there is nothing but Victor.

"Yuuri," he breathes, pulling him closer, pulling him by the nape of his neck towards him to kiss him. Their kisses are far from perfect at this point, with teeth clashing and lips biting, but in reality, that is the definition of perfection. A kiss so desperate and longing that it removes inhibitions and practice, leaving it with nothing but need... it's dizzying, and Victor can feel himself letting go.

"Victor please," Yuuri cries. "I need to - I need it, please."

"Yes, Yuuri," Victor gasps, his hips snapping up to meet Yuuri at every push he makes, their hips moving in tandem to push them both over the edge.

It's Yuuri who reaches it first, his body quivering as his throat lets out a cry that is raw with emotion, his arms pulling tight around Victor's back and bringing them closer. His orgasm is much harder this time than the first, more drawn out and seemingly painful in a way that makes Yuuri gasp for air, before slumping forward devoid of energy.

Even as he loses his mind, Yuuri doesn't cease to surprise Victor. His eyes are glassy and lips swollen, red painting his face which is splotchy and glistening, and despite it all he smiles up at him. "You feel amazing inside me," Yuuri drawls, his words slurred from pleasure. "So deep," he says. "I can feel you right here." His fingers run against the front of his stomach, his mouth hanging open as he gazes at Victor with warmth in his eyes. "So good..." he says.

And then, "I love you, Victor."

Victor's orgasm takes him like a tidal wave, all at once and unrelenting, filling his senses and leaving him unable to breathe. Yuuri is with him, pulling him up, and when he breathes again for the first time, he's breathing him in. Yuuri's hands pull Victor towards him, pulling him into an embrace as he brings their lips together, and Victor's groans are lost into the heat of Yuuri's perfect mouth.

He's breathless as they pull apart - they both are, and they stare at each other with warmth in their eyes, a million words exchanged with a single glance.

Victor opens his mouth and says the words they both know, anyway.

"I love you too, Yuuri."

**Author's Note:**

> im kinda laughing bc the fic at the start is so empty but by the end its so saturated with useless words and pretentiousness like... was this even written by the same person lmao. i also cant get over the fucking cheesy gay ending like.. who is this stranger inhabiting my body??? love?? whats that
> 
> anyway this aint beta read for we die like men. ~~if u spot a mistake pls lmk~~  
>  also um... please comment if u liked it.. i could... really use the validation rn >__>
> 
> [my writing blog](http://klwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)


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